Page 3 of Deception of a Highlander

To kill a man…She gripped the coiled iron railing and let the metal bite into her damp palms. No, the option was hers and she refused to kill.

Who were these people being sought? Blair and Dougal Hampton. Obviously, brothers or perhaps father and son. Most likely political refugees. Whoever they were, they had caught the attention of the wrong people.

“If ye squeeze that bar any harder, ye may snap it from the wall.” A man’s voice sounded behind her, startling her from her reverie.

“What?” she gasped and spun around to face him. She had not heard the door open.

Chestnut hair grew past the stranger’s shoulders, and he stood a head taller than any man she’d seen in London. His eyes were black against the darkness of night as he studied her. “Why do ye cry?”

Had she been crying? She touched her cheek and met the cold wetness of her tears.

The hard lines of his face softened as he regarded her with a tenderness that made her long for the ability to speak candidly to him, to be comforted by him. But she was no ordinary woman with ordinary fears that were able to be soothed.

She dragged her gaze from the warmth of his stare, severing the delicate connection between them and kept her silence.

“Will ye tell me yer name?” He moved closer, and a subtle breeze carried the light masculine spice of his scent toward her. She breathed deep before she realized what she was doing.

“Mariel Brandon.” Her response came automatically and without thought. Her heart slammed erratically within her chest. She had given her real name. For the last two years, she had maintained an alias, her own name nothing more than a memory. Yet here, in the face of a foreign stranger, she had announced her true name without hesitation.

“Mariel,” he repeated in his hypnotic burr. The corners of his lips tugged up in a ghost of a smile.

Something about him gave her a reassuring sense of solace and made him feel somehow trustworthy. Doubtless, he could help her find Kieran MacDonald. She drew a slow breath around the sudden tightness in her chest. Like so many before him, she would have to use this kind man to her benefit. And she hated herself for it.

“Perhaps you might help me.” She stared up at him, keeping her gaze innocent.

The golden glow of the lights from inside the palace spilled onto the balcony and highlighted his strong features. His jaw was hard, too sharp for his sensual mouth, and his nose appeared bent as if it had been broken before. He wore a kilt belted around his waist and a simple jacket over his plain white leine, the garb of a Highlander.

His eyes searched hers; his thoughts were impossible to discern from his impassive expression. “What is it ye need?”

“I’m looking for Kieran MacDonald.” It was a direct approach, but Highlanders were a direct sort of people.

His face did not reflect any kind of recognition. “Why do ye seek him?”

“I heard he returns soon to Scotland and hoped to secure passage with his party.” She glanced down, unable to meet his gaze. “I cannot stay in London any longer, and I have nowhere else to go.”

“I hate to add to yer sadness, lass, but I dinna think he will take ye.”

Mariel’s heart raced. So he did know him? “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m Kieran MacDonald.” His eyes narrowed. “And I’m curious how ye came to know my name.”

CHAPTER 2

Kieran regarded the dark-haired woman with a hard stare. Her mouth fell open, and he regretted the bluntness of his demand. She was a courtier, not a prisoner of war.

Some habits were difficult to leave behind.

Still, she had asked for him by name. He could not leave that be.

Color spread across her cheeks. “I overheard several Highlanders speak of you earlier.” Her voice was soft with a huskiness to it. While most English spoke in harsh, clipped tones, her words sounded almost melodic.

She lowered her eyes demurely and tucked her lower lip between her teeth. He was being ridiculous with his suspicions. She had not sought him out. She hadn’t even seen him when she came onto the balcony.

Irritation bristled along the back of his neck. Coming to London always set him on edge, but even more so now given the circumstances.

Still, if Colin and Alec were discussing their plans in full earshot of the court, he would have some choice words with them.

“I dinna remember seeing ye earlier. What did the men speaking look like?”